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kathierif_ficTitle: Finding Mac
Author: Kathie
Rating: FRT-13
Fandoms: CSI:NY and Dresden Files (TV show)
Spoilers: CSI:NY’s The Thing About Heroes
Warning: Crossover
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.
Word count: 1,307 words
Summary: Mac is in Chicago, and Don needs to find him. So what does he do? He goes to ask Harry Dresden for a little help.
Author’s Notes: I have no explanation.
~*~*~
It wasn't hard finding Harry Dresden. He was in the yellow pages, after all, and Don had known that before he'd come to Chicago to bring the wayward Mac home.
The only problem was, of course, that Chicago was the third biggest city in the US, as far as Don knew, and he suspected that finding Mac was not the easiest thing to do.
Not if he had to do it within twelve hours.
Consulting Dresden hadn't been the first thing he'd thought of, but then, it also hadn't been the last thing on his mind.
It didn't matter how long it had been since he'd talked to a wizard last. Don still knew what they were capable of. He just preferred not to think about it too much - it was a part of his life that was over, and thinking about it wouldn't bring it back.
Don't play with dead things, his mother had always told him. Let sleeping dogs sleep. Don't wake up the demons.
Don had been a good apprentice. He'd done what his mother had told him, had learned how to handle magic, up to the day when his brother had been killed by a demon, his throat and heart ripped out while he was still conscious.
Don had never been able to forget the horrible screams and whimpers that had so suddenly stopped.
It was the day he'd broken his wand and staff and had walked out of his mother's carefully hidden lab in the basement of their cozy family home, and he'd never been back down there.
He wasn't a wizard. He was just a simple cop. But he knew that magic existed.
And he knew that he needed Dresden's help to find Mac.
Entering Dresden's office, it didn't take Don long to recognize some of the protective wards and symbols on the walls and ceiling. It also wasn't hard to see that the wizard himself was caught up at the moment, entangled in a web of sticky threads that prevented every kind of movement.
The furniture was partly knocked over, and papers and books were strewn over the floor. The carpet was smoldering slightly, and Don quickly stepped on it to prevent the fire from growing and causing even more destruction.
"Looks like a hell of a party," he commented.
Dresden just shot him a dark glare. The sticky goo that held him immobilized also covered part of his face, making it impossible for him to talk at all.
His dark hair was cut short and sticking up slightly, his hairline slightly receding. His feet were dangling a few inches above the floor, and Don thought that Dresden was approximately his size, if not a bit taller.
All together, he was looking at a very annoyed and pissed off wizard.
Don knew better than to touch the goo covering Dresden. Instead he stepped up to the desk and started, albeit carefully, to open a few drawers.
Dresden made a muffled sound of protest, and Don bit his tongue slightly to stop the smile from escaping. Every wizard had what he was looking for lying around; it had to be somewhere here. He didn't feel like digging through the man's kitchen, and thankfully, he didn't have to. Jammed in the top drawer, under an old drumstick that sizzled with power, was a jar filled with white crystals.
"Had to be a big one to catch you like this," he said in a conversional tone as he unscrewed the glass and carefully sniffed. It seemed to be okay, and he took a few grains of the salt and sprinkled them carefully on the bound wizard.
“My guess? An insectoid,” he continued and sprinkled more salt on the bonds. The fact that the material holding Dresden captured was still gooey told him that there hadn’t been passed much time since the attack, or fight. It was for the best, probably, he thought, and the salt was working its way through the material even faster as long as it hadn’t hardened completely.
Dresden waited until the goo over his face had melted completely under the assault of the salt. His cheeks were shadowed by stubble, and he frowned at Don while Don continued to work on freeing him.
“That’s dangerous,” he finally said. “Digging through a wizard’s desk. I could’ve hidden powerful artifacts in there.”
Don shrugged slightly. “I know my way around a wizard’s property,” he offered. “And I couldn’t imagine that you enjoyed hanging suspended from your own ceiling while this slime dries on your skin and slowly poisons you.”
With a quiet noise, the threads of the web ripped, and Dresden fell to the floor with a muffled groan. One of his arms came free next, and he quietly reached for the salt and rubbed it into his skin, eliminating every trace of the substance.
They worked in silence until Dresden could stand up. He grimaced as he limped across the room to pick up an old wooden hockey stick and inspected it briefly before leaning it against the side of his desk and slowly sitting down. His staff, Don realized with a start, and the drumstick in the drawer had been his wand. He knew that every wizard used something else as those focal points – his mother had used a broom for a staff, after all.
Finally, Dresden turned his attention toward Don. “What do you want?” he asked. He sounded tired, Don noticed.
He smiled slightly. “A tracking spell,” he replied while pushing his hands deep into his coat pockets. Getting a strand of Mac’s hair had been easier than he’d thought, and he handed it to Dresden with a small bow.
Dresden looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You know about this,” he finally said. “I…sense something about you.”
Don shrugged slightly and looked into Dresden’s face without meeting his eyes. “That was a long time ago,” he replied softly. “I just need to find…” He bit his lip and shrugged.
“Okay, then,” Dresden said slowly and took the hair. Don had put it in an evidence bag, and Dresden’s eyebrows shot up at the sight of that. However, he didn’t comment.
“Wait here,” he just ordered and stood. “It might take a while.”
“Two hours, maximum,” Don calmly said and sat in the chair in front of Dresden’s desk that had miraculously not been upturned. “I’ll wait.”
Dresden shook his head slightly and limped off.
It didn’t quite take him two hours to cast the spell and bind it into a pencil he handed Flack without a comment. “I trust you know how this works,” he just said.
“Yeah,” Don nodded and balanced the pencil on his open palm. It turned like the needle of a compass until it finally stopped moving and only trembled slightly.
“Two hours, then it will wear off,” Dresden told him and ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Is that enough?”
“Perfect,” Don nodded and stood. “Thank you, Mr. Dresden.”
He smiled and straightened his tie slightly. He had a detective to find.
“Thanks for the help,” Dresden called after him, and Don made a mental note to ask his mother about him the next time he’d meet her.
True to Dresden’s words, the spell wore off two hours later, but that was okay. By that time, Don had found Mac and they were on their way back home, without Mac ever figuring out how Don had managed to find him. Don was fine with Mac thinking he was just an ordinary human, because he was. While he sometimes missed the raw power and the ability to manipulate the magical energy, he preferred to be a non-wizard. This way, he didn’t interfere with electrical gadgets when he got excited, something he’d learned to treasure while watching Rangers games on TV…
The End.
Author: Kathie
Rating: FRT-13
Fandoms: CSI:NY and Dresden Files (TV show)
Spoilers: CSI:NY’s The Thing About Heroes
Warning: Crossover
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.
Word count: 1,307 words
Summary: Mac is in Chicago, and Don needs to find him. So what does he do? He goes to ask Harry Dresden for a little help.
Author’s Notes: I have no explanation.
~*~*~
It wasn't hard finding Harry Dresden. He was in the yellow pages, after all, and Don had known that before he'd come to Chicago to bring the wayward Mac home.
The only problem was, of course, that Chicago was the third biggest city in the US, as far as Don knew, and he suspected that finding Mac was not the easiest thing to do.
Not if he had to do it within twelve hours.
Consulting Dresden hadn't been the first thing he'd thought of, but then, it also hadn't been the last thing on his mind.
It didn't matter how long it had been since he'd talked to a wizard last. Don still knew what they were capable of. He just preferred not to think about it too much - it was a part of his life that was over, and thinking about it wouldn't bring it back.
Don't play with dead things, his mother had always told him. Let sleeping dogs sleep. Don't wake up the demons.
Don had been a good apprentice. He'd done what his mother had told him, had learned how to handle magic, up to the day when his brother had been killed by a demon, his throat and heart ripped out while he was still conscious.
Don had never been able to forget the horrible screams and whimpers that had so suddenly stopped.
It was the day he'd broken his wand and staff and had walked out of his mother's carefully hidden lab in the basement of their cozy family home, and he'd never been back down there.
He wasn't a wizard. He was just a simple cop. But he knew that magic existed.
And he knew that he needed Dresden's help to find Mac.
Entering Dresden's office, it didn't take Don long to recognize some of the protective wards and symbols on the walls and ceiling. It also wasn't hard to see that the wizard himself was caught up at the moment, entangled in a web of sticky threads that prevented every kind of movement.
The furniture was partly knocked over, and papers and books were strewn over the floor. The carpet was smoldering slightly, and Don quickly stepped on it to prevent the fire from growing and causing even more destruction.
"Looks like a hell of a party," he commented.
Dresden just shot him a dark glare. The sticky goo that held him immobilized also covered part of his face, making it impossible for him to talk at all.
His dark hair was cut short and sticking up slightly, his hairline slightly receding. His feet were dangling a few inches above the floor, and Don thought that Dresden was approximately his size, if not a bit taller.
All together, he was looking at a very annoyed and pissed off wizard.
Don knew better than to touch the goo covering Dresden. Instead he stepped up to the desk and started, albeit carefully, to open a few drawers.
Dresden made a muffled sound of protest, and Don bit his tongue slightly to stop the smile from escaping. Every wizard had what he was looking for lying around; it had to be somewhere here. He didn't feel like digging through the man's kitchen, and thankfully, he didn't have to. Jammed in the top drawer, under an old drumstick that sizzled with power, was a jar filled with white crystals.
"Had to be a big one to catch you like this," he said in a conversional tone as he unscrewed the glass and carefully sniffed. It seemed to be okay, and he took a few grains of the salt and sprinkled them carefully on the bound wizard.
“My guess? An insectoid,” he continued and sprinkled more salt on the bonds. The fact that the material holding Dresden captured was still gooey told him that there hadn’t been passed much time since the attack, or fight. It was for the best, probably, he thought, and the salt was working its way through the material even faster as long as it hadn’t hardened completely.
Dresden waited until the goo over his face had melted completely under the assault of the salt. His cheeks were shadowed by stubble, and he frowned at Don while Don continued to work on freeing him.
“That’s dangerous,” he finally said. “Digging through a wizard’s desk. I could’ve hidden powerful artifacts in there.”
Don shrugged slightly. “I know my way around a wizard’s property,” he offered. “And I couldn’t imagine that you enjoyed hanging suspended from your own ceiling while this slime dries on your skin and slowly poisons you.”
With a quiet noise, the threads of the web ripped, and Dresden fell to the floor with a muffled groan. One of his arms came free next, and he quietly reached for the salt and rubbed it into his skin, eliminating every trace of the substance.
They worked in silence until Dresden could stand up. He grimaced as he limped across the room to pick up an old wooden hockey stick and inspected it briefly before leaning it against the side of his desk and slowly sitting down. His staff, Don realized with a start, and the drumstick in the drawer had been his wand. He knew that every wizard used something else as those focal points – his mother had used a broom for a staff, after all.
Finally, Dresden turned his attention toward Don. “What do you want?” he asked. He sounded tired, Don noticed.
He smiled slightly. “A tracking spell,” he replied while pushing his hands deep into his coat pockets. Getting a strand of Mac’s hair had been easier than he’d thought, and he handed it to Dresden with a small bow.
Dresden looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You know about this,” he finally said. “I…sense something about you.”
Don shrugged slightly and looked into Dresden’s face without meeting his eyes. “That was a long time ago,” he replied softly. “I just need to find…” He bit his lip and shrugged.
“Okay, then,” Dresden said slowly and took the hair. Don had put it in an evidence bag, and Dresden’s eyebrows shot up at the sight of that. However, he didn’t comment.
“Wait here,” he just ordered and stood. “It might take a while.”
“Two hours, maximum,” Don calmly said and sat in the chair in front of Dresden’s desk that had miraculously not been upturned. “I’ll wait.”
Dresden shook his head slightly and limped off.
It didn’t quite take him two hours to cast the spell and bind it into a pencil he handed Flack without a comment. “I trust you know how this works,” he just said.
“Yeah,” Don nodded and balanced the pencil on his open palm. It turned like the needle of a compass until it finally stopped moving and only trembled slightly.
“Two hours, then it will wear off,” Dresden told him and ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Is that enough?”
“Perfect,” Don nodded and stood. “Thank you, Mr. Dresden.”
He smiled and straightened his tie slightly. He had a detective to find.
“Thanks for the help,” Dresden called after him, and Don made a mental note to ask his mother about him the next time he’d meet her.
True to Dresden’s words, the spell wore off two hours later, but that was okay. By that time, Don had found Mac and they were on their way back home, without Mac ever figuring out how Don had managed to find him. Don was fine with Mac thinking he was just an ordinary human, because he was. While he sometimes missed the raw power and the ability to manipulate the magical energy, he preferred to be a non-wizard. This way, he didn’t interfere with electrical gadgets when he got excited, something he’d learned to treasure while watching Rangers games on TV…
The End.